


Narcissa Through the Looking-Glass

by La Reine Noire (lareinenoire)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bechdel Test Pass, Better Living Through Potions, Crossover, Gen, Pre-Canon, Talking Trees, crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-23 23:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1584089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lareinenoire/pseuds/La%20Reine%20Noire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One rainy day in her seventh year at Hogwarts, Narcissa Black makes a fateful visit to the Room of Requirement. The last thing she expects is to find herself in a world that plays by very different rules. Harry Potter/ASOIAF crossover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Narcissa Through the Looking-Glass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FairyQueen (etoilecourageuse)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilecourageuse/gifts).



> Thanks so much to rosamund, winter_of_our_discontent, and gehayi for beta-reading.

Being a Prefect had many advantages, not the least of which was the ability to wander nearly anywhere in Hogwarts Castle without being questioned. There were exceptions, of course, but Narcissa Black left that kind of rule-breaking to her cousin Sirius. If it hadn't been pouring outside, she would have joined everyone else in Hogsmeade, but the combination of icy paths and driving winds had convinced her otherwise. The castle was deserted except for the first- and second-years and she had already confirmed with Flint and Underwood that the Slytherins were accounted for.

 

The door she was looking for was just round the corner. It stood in one of the odd, sourceless spills of light one sometimes found in Hogwarts. Foolish people found it unsettling; Narcissa was only reminded of home. Ducking beneath the tapestry that half-concealed the door, she pushed it open to reveal a massive room teeming with random, forgotten objects.

 

She frowned. Usually the room was smaller, though she had known for some time what it was and how it changed shape and size based on who entered. Her footsteps echoed through the cavernous space and the shadows seemed to dance in the soft light from the end of her wand. There was a bit of light, she noticed, from the windows at the far end of the room, so she made her way there.

 

As she arrived, a glimmer caught the corner of her eye. Narcissa turned to the window and found, beside it, a small wooden table piled high with odds and ends. Perched on a falling-apart copy of _Doors Between Worlds: The Art of Interdimensional Apparition_ was a statue of a three-headed dragon carved of black stone with glittering ruby eyes. Obsidian, she guessed as she lifted it to take a closer look.

 

She had only just passed her exams for an Apparition License but even she knew this felt different. The room started spinning, first slowly and then so quickly it seemed to dissolve into a whirl of colours. Still she clutched the dragon close like a talisman and held her wand tightly in the other. While it still occurred to her, she snatched up the book, losing its back cover in the cyclone.

 

When Narcissa opened her eyes, she was in the middle of a wood. Book and statue fell to the ground as she spun in a circle. There was no one else that she could see, and yet something was watching her. She could feel it. She could feel, too, the sudden intrusion of what felt like tree branches, scraping through her thoughts. _Legilimency_.

 

Narcissa concentrated as hard as she could on blankness-- _a white wall, think of a white wall_ \--and after what seemed like ages, the scratching receded.

 

She waited, counting backwards in her head from thirty. Nothing. Only the sound of birds singing and, faraway, the unmistakeable murmur of water against stone. It was high spring, practically summer--impossible, surely, since it was still winter at Hogwarts. _Wherever I am, it's not near Hogwarts_. That much was clear.

 

"Right," she said aloud. Her voice was shaking. "I touched the dragon and somehow it brought me here. Doors open in both directions." She picked up the dragon again and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she hadn't moved. _Doors open in both directions. Except when they don't_. She knew that as well as any respectable witch.

 

"That would be too simple," she muttered. The dragon's three heads seemed to laugh at her so she stuffed the statue in the pocket of her robes. Her wand was back in its sheath--a simple strip of fabric Andromeda had helped her sew into the sleeve last summer--and the much-abused book on the grass in front of her. Kneeling, Narcissa picked it up.

 

The bindings had come apart, revealing marbled endpapers and rough-cut pages filled with old print and scribbled notes. It would not have looked out of place in her uncle Orion's library at Grimmauld Place, although he would have had the sense to rebind it. Where the author's name should have been was only a pair of initials, _M.B_. Narcissa had to bite back a wild laugh. _Maybe it was another Black who came here before_. Wherever _here_ was.

 

It was then that she heard the voices. Narcissa found a hedge nearby and ducked behind it, raising the hood on her robes to hide her hair. Pulling the wand from her sleeve, she crouched at the ready.

 

"I _told_ you it was a good idea." They were both girls of about her age and the shorter of the two was speaking. She was very pale, her long coppery hair pulled into a complicated plait to her waist. "You've done nothing but sleep and pray for days."

 

"I don't know what else to do, Lysa." The taller girl wore a mourning dress and veil not unlike what Narcissa's Aunt Walburga had worn to her uncle's funeral. It was completely impractical for wandering in the woods, but the girl moved gracefully as though she'd been wearing it all her life. "Nothing makes sense anymore."

 

"At least you're here at home." Lysa took her sister's hand. They had to be sisters, the younger a quiet shadow of the elder, as Andromeda had been to Bella for so many years. Though similarly long and cumbersome, Lysa's dress was bright blue-- _Ravenclaw blue_ , thought Narcissa--with accents of striking red ribbon and a border that Narcissa eventually realised was a line of fish picked out in red thread. It looked like a coat of arms. _Have I fallen backward in time?_ She recalled Sirius telling her about tripping over such a place in the Forbidden Forest once when he was on detention, but surely that wasn't permitted from within the castle itself. They couldn't even Apparate in and out, after all. _Of course, the Room of Requirement plays by its own rules_.

 

The girls were getting closer. Narcissa raised her wand to cast a Concealment Charm over herself...

 

Nothing happened.

 

She could feel something in her wand, as though she were pulling on a rope attached to something unimaginably far away. _No_. It wasn't possible.

 

She was pureblooded. She was a _Black_.

 

 _That statue. It's turned me into a Squib, just like Great-Uncle Marius_. Nobody ever talked about Great-Uncle Marius except for her great-aunt Cassiopeia, who was In Disgrace and only ever came to family funerals. She stared down at the useless wand in her hand as tears welled in her eyes.

 

**What do you here, ghost child?**

 

The voice seemed to well from below her feet, and somewhere to her left. Narcissa turned very slowly. The tree was large and white with glorious red leaves, bright as the ribbons on the girl's dress and she thought for a moment that she saw blood-red eyes and a red slash of a mouth on the trunk.

 

"Who are _you_?" She looked back at the path to find both girls staring at her, though it was the elder who spoke. "How did you get into the godswood?"

 

There was something in the girl's face that reminded her just enough of Andromeda that Narcissa decided to take the risk. Still gripping the wand in one hand and the book in the other, she took a step toward them. "I don't know where I am. Please, can you help me?"

 

The younger girl---Lysa, she recalled---edged closer to her sister. "She looks like a _Targaryen_ , Cat."

 

"A what?" Narcissa blinked. "I just want to get home. Can you tell me where I am?"

 

The two girls exchanged glances before the elder spoke. Narcissa could barely make out her face beneath the mourning veil, although Lysa was still looking at her with suspicion. "This is the godswood at Riverrun. I am Lady Catelyn Tully and this is my sister Lysa. Our father rules these lands. Now, for the last time, who are you and what are you doing here?"

 

The names were all equally unfamiliar, even to a daughter of the house of Black raised on family trees and bloodlines, but she knew aristocracy when she saw it. Raising her chin, Narcissa intoned, in her best impression of Aunt Walburga, "I am Narcissa of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, _toujours pur_. As for the other," she laughed, the sound on the edge of a sob, "you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

 

Catelyn Tully lifted the veil over her head to reveal the bitter smile of a woman twice her age. "Oh, you would be surprised what I can believe, Narcissa of House Black."

 

***

 

It seemed that Catelyn Tully was in mourning for the man she was supposed to marry, and that his death had been not at all accidental. "They say he was killed on the king's orders but nobody will tell me anything more."

 

Narcissa had a moment's awful recollection of the day the previous year when Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion had blasted Andromeda's name from the family tapestry in Grimmauld Place, wiping her from the Black line forever. Her sister was not dead, but she might as well be. "The king?" she finally asked, unable to think of what else to say.

 

"Aerys, the second of his name, of House Targaryen." She recited it like a spell and it seemed as though the air shivered a little. Narcissa was certain she hadn't imagined it. _So that's what a Targaryen is, and apparently I look like one_. "The Mad King."

 

These names meant nothing to Narcissa. She didn't recall any of them from any books or from Professor Binns' lectures. She was somewhere else entirely--a place apparently ruled by a mad king. "And he rules over the Riverlands?"

 

"Over the Seven Kingdoms." Catelyn was frowning at her. "You really _aren't_ from here, are you?"

 

Narcissa shook her head. "Not remotely. Which is why I need to get back."

 

"To where?"

 

"To Hogwarts. It's in Scotland." Both girls looked blankly at her. Neither of them had wands, but since Narcissa's clearly wasn't working, perhaps wizards in the Seven Kingdoms didn't use wands. They had only just begun to study wandless magic in Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts, but Narcissa still hadn't found the nerve to try it here, lest something awful happen. _Or, worse, if nothing happened_.

 

"House Black of Hogwarts," said Catelyn. "I've never heard of it."

 

"It's not..." Narcissa sighed. "Never mind. You wouldn't have heard of it." Something in the other girl's face kept reminding her of Andromeda, though they looked nothing alike. Narcissa's elder sister had dark eyes and hair that never behaved, even under Narcissa's best charms, but there was something in the way Catelyn kept half an eye on her sister Lysa that made Narcissa's stomach twist just so. "So, your king is mad, but he's still the king?"

 

Catelyn stared at her as though she'd sprouted another head. "Of course he is. What else would he be?"

 

There were a thousand answers to that question but Narcissa suspected that very few of them would go over well. British wizards had once bowed to Muggle kings and queens--a small price for security and status--but all such formalities had dissolved with the Statutes of Secrecy, all for the best as far as Narcissa's family was concerned. It seemed they'd been on the bad side of more than a few monarchs.

 

The silence stretched for a moment or two before Catelyn sighed. "You never did tell me how you came to be here, Lady Narcissa."

 

She had to make a choice. Narcissa took a deep breath. "There was this statue I found. I just picked it up, and suddenly, I was _here_." Reaching into the pocket of her robes, she pulled out the dragon. Its eyes seemed to glow brighter in the candlelight.

 

Catelyn flinched a little. "It's a Targaryen dragon. That's their sigil--a red, three-headed dragon on a black field. Where did you find this?"

 

"In a room full of rubbish," Narcissa said. "I promise I don't know any Targaryens. I'd never even heard the name before today. But if these are their arms, they must be connected somehow."

 

"What about the Citadel?" It was Lysa who suddenly spoke up from where she'd retreated slightly behind Catelyn. "They say the maesters know everything."

 

"Nobody knows everything," Narcissa replied automatically. "What's the Citadel?"

 

"That's where the maesters are trained. They study all kinds of things. Some of them," Lysa lowered her voice, "even study _magic_."

 

Hope seemed to catch fire in Narcissa's heart. "You don't say. Is it far from here?"

 

"Hundreds of leagues to the south, past King's Landing and even past the Stormlands," said Catelyn. She pointed to a tapestry on the far wall of the chamber that Narcissa quickly realised was a map. A large continent stretched from the top of the tapestry almost all the way to the bottom, with a tiny strip of blue ocean below a peninsula labelled _Dorne_. Catelyn stood on tiptoe to gesture to a tiny castle between two rivers, right at the centre of the continent. "This is Riverrun here." She made a straight line down all the way to the southern coast. At the inland tip of a great natural harbour was another city labelled _Oldtown_. "The Citadel is here."

 

 _If I had my Cleansweep, I could be there in a few days_ , Narcissa thought in despair. She'd never been there and had no idea what it looked like, so she couldn't have Apparated safely even if her wand had been working. "How long would it take me to get there?"

 

"Weeks, maybe months. Lysa and I have never been further south than King's Landing and it seemed to take forever." Catelyn pointed to another city on the eastern coast of the continent. The label was embroidered in golden thread and topped with a crown bearing a three-headed dragon. "And after what's happened to Brandon and his father, I don't know if you _could_ go now."

 

"But you said you didn't know what happened," Narcissa said, on the verge of snapping. The stricken expression on Catelyn's face made her sigh. "I'm sorry, Lady Catelyn, for your loss. You must have loved him."

 

Catelyn looked at her hand and Narcissa caught a glimpse of a silver ring on her wedding finger. "I barely knew him, but I could have loved him. He was handsome and charming, and his father rules-- _ruled_ \--over all the North." She gestured to the single large castle Narcissa could see in the northern half of the continent. "I would have been the lady of Winterfell."

 

"You might still be," Lysa murmured, taking her sister's hand. "Didn't you tell me he had a brother?"

 

"Two brothers and a sister who's gone missing."

 

**The wolf girl, the lost girl, the girl for whom the world will burn.**

 

The voice wasn't as overwhelming as it had been in the garden-- _the godswood_ , she reminded herself--but still it seemed to come from somewhere within her. Beneath it, she could hear rustling leaves. _Who are you and why are you talking to me?_

 

**Because you can hear us. Heed us, ghost child.**

 

"Missing?" Narcissa said aloud, realising that Catelyn was staring at her. "You didn't mention that before."

 

"That was why Brandon left. It was all he told me when he saw me--that something had happened to Lyanna and that we'd be married as soon as he'd found her. And then..." The words caught on a sob. "And then Father had the message from King's Landing that Brandon was dead and his father and all of the knights he'd taken with him."

 

"But he never found her?"

 

Catelyn had to think for a moment. "Nobody said."

 

**Beware the silver prince, they said, but the wolf girl did not heed.**

 

There was a king, so it made sense that there would also be a prince. "We need to find out what truly happened. Don't you want to?"

 

Catelyn nodded. "He was to have been my husband. I want to know why he died."

 

"If I help you find out, will you help me get to the Citadel?" She held out her hand to Catelyn and Catelyn took it with unsmiling gravity. "That's settled, then."

 

***

 

Narcissa never found out exactly what Catelyn had told her father to explain her presence, but she suspected that Lord Hoster Tully had more pressing problems than another mouth to feed. How many times had Sirius snuck James Potter into the kitchens in Grimmauld Place without his parents being the wiser? More than Narcissa could count. Strange as this place was, the patterns reminded her almost painfully of the home she increasingly worried she would never see again.

 

Narcissa had tried for several days to gain access to Catelyn's father's study, all to no avail. If her own experience with her father's or Uncle Orion's libraries were any indication, this meant that things were likely far worse than Catelyn knew. Finally, through a well-timed series of distractions orchestrated by Catelyn and Lysa (with some unwitting help from their brother Edmure, who had only been briefly introduced to Narcissa on his way to a session with the master-at-arms), she managed to sneak into the triangular study that overlooked the fork in the river.

 

Catelyn had promised her five minutes and Narcissa had been gratified to discover that her pocket watch--a gift from Great-Aunt Cassiopeia, who had remarked that she was the only one of the great-nieces and nephews who she could trust to keep it safe--still worked. The dials and gears had been crafted by goblins nearly two hundred years before and never needed to be wound or charged, at least in her own world, but she had been forced to relearn all the rules she had once known.

 

Here, for instance, a young woman never interrupted a man. Narcissa couldn't help but feel smug that, no matter how badly she blended into her surroundings, Bellatrix would have fared infinitely worse. Noting the stares her robes inspired, Catelyn and Lysa quickly found her a dress. It was as fine a garment as Narcissa had ever owned, woven of soft blue wool that brought out her eyes--although not as strikingly as it would have Catelyn's.

 

She was also most assuredly not supposed to be sneaking into the lord of the Riverlands' study, but here she was. She made her way to the great wooden table that looked like it had been crafted from the remains of a boat--hardly a surprise for a castle that commanded rivers--and began to rifle through the papers, searching for the name _Brandon Stark_.

 

She did not need to look hard. Brandon Stark's name was everywhere, as was a Rickard Stark who Narcissa assumed was his father. There was also an Eddard Stark who hadn't been with them, but none of the letters mentioned a sister...except for one, from a Lord Jon Arryn.

 

 _We do not know the full truth and mayhap we never will. All I know is that Lyanna Stark has been abducted by the Prince of Dragonstone and her brother and father murdered in cold blood for trying to get her back. My nephew, too, is a victim of their murderous malice. The Hand of the King has demanded that I remand Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon to royal custody, but I will rot in the coldest of hells before I let that monster have them. Ned rides north to call the banners at Winterfell, and Robert to Storm's End. I fear, Lord Hoster, that war is upon us, and we must all choose sides_.

 

Finally, at the bottom of the pile, she found a piece of parchment with markedly grubby edges. It was not signed, nor was there any indication of who might have sent it. As she read it, she sank into the thronelike wooden chair, nauseated. _This is a true accounting of the deaths of Lord Rickard Stark and his son Lord Brandon, may the Seven have mercy on us all_.

 

Numbly, Narcissa began to copy out the letter onto a small piece of parchment she'd brought with her from Catelyn's room. She tried not to reread the words as she did so, or to let her mind's eye wander to the horrors they conveyed. _I promised her that I would tell her the truth, and so I shall_. But she could not help but wonder what she might do in Catelyn's place.

 

 _Revenge. I would avenge him. They would feel the full wrath of the House of Black and they would regret it well beyond the grave_.

 

Of course, she didn't have a man to avenge. Not yet, at any rate; not after Andromeda's disgrace. Narcissa's coming out had been delayed for at least the next year until the scandal died down. That Lucius Malfoy had once kissed her behind the greenhouses at Hogwarts was no one's business but her own, until she chose to make it otherwise.

 

She forced herself to think of him as she reached the last stages of the letter, gritting her teeth as she wrote. Had her wand worked, she might have copied it with a swish, a flick, and a murmured spell, but that was no longer an option. Instead the words were branded into her mind.

 

_...the pyromancers kindled a blaze with their wildfire and roasted Lord Stark in his armour...Lord Brandon was strangled trying to reach his father's side..._

 

She set down the quill and did her best to reorder the papers as she'd discovered them. Just then, a small bell on her pocket watch began to toll, signalling that her time was up. Narcissa crept to the door and, at the sound of footfalls in the corridor, darted out and round the corner, praying she hadn't been seen.

 

She, Narcissa Black, had stumbled into the middle of a war, and she had no idea how she was going to get out.

 

***

 

Three days had passed since Narcissa had given Catelyn the copied letter and neither she nor Lysa had seen her. To pass the time and distract them both, Lysa took Narcissa to the woods on the far side of the drawbridge from Riverrun to gather plants. Lysa, it turned out, had a good memory for flowers and herbs, and Narcissa quickly discovered that the Riverlands weren't terribly different from England, save perhaps for the lack of enchanted flora and fauna that she'd come to take for granted.

 

Narcissa couldn't help but wonder if she could still brew potions here even if her wand did not work. It was at least worth a try, she reasoned, and with Lysa's help gathered the ingredients for a basic sleeping potion. Lysa proved equally adept at chopping and preparing herbs, and when Narcissa sat beside her bed that evening, she felt surprisingly calm about drinking the pale lavender potion that smelled so very familiar.

 

There was just one difference: the dreams.

 

Narcissa had only used a sleeping potion on a few stray occasions, though her mother had been drinking it every night after Andromeda left, and this was the first time it had ever made her dream.

 

She was back in the godswood, or what she thought was the godswood until she realised it looked completely different. Everything seemed overlain with shades of grey, the leaves darkened to the green of pine forests and mountains. Instead of just one great white tree, there was a cluster of them surrounding a pool of water darker than any she'd ever seen.

 

Beside the pool sat a girl of perhaps Lysa's age in leather breeches and riding boots, reading a letter. She had dark hair pulled into a messy plait and sharp, striking features--despite having grey eyes rather than brown, Narcissa was reminded of Bellatrix with a pang. The girl seemed to hear something that Narcissa could not and dropped the letter in her haste to stand up. Invisible in her dream-state, Narcissa crept forward and looked at the forgotten parchment. She was dimly aware of a boy with similar colouring and features to the girl who was evidently arguing with her, but the name at the head of the letter had caught her full attention.

 

 _To the honourable lady Lyanna Stark, Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, greets you well_.

 

Narcissa's attention snapped to the girl again, taking her in anew. She was laughing now, an expression that transformed her face just as it did Bella's, as she chivvied the boy away from where she'd been seated. When his back was turned, she snatched up the parchment before Narcissa could finish the letter. She'd caught something about libraries and, rather to her surprise, dragons.

 

When she looked up, she found herself staring at one of those massive white trees, and she realised that it was staring back at her. Its "face" was little more than two red slashes for eyes and a wider slash of a mouth, but she suddenly knew what it was that had been watching her since her arrival.

 

**You are slow, ghost child.**

 

"Well," she muttered, "you could have been clearer. What do you want from me?" The girl-- _Lyanna Stark_ \--and her brother had left the godswood and Narcissa was alone, facing the tree. "And, if I may point out, reaching into someone's mind before being introduced is very rude, and has made me less inclined to help you."

 

**You are a strange ghost child.**

 

"Why do you call me that?"

 

**You hear us, but you are not of our world. You walk on our earth but you cast no shadow. You are neither living nor dead, neither human nor child of the forest. Ghost child you are and shall be.**

 

Narcissa looked at the ground but it was impossible to tell in the shade of the godswood whether or not she cast a shadow. "What is a child of the forest?"

 

**We are of the land and we protect it.**

 

"Then maybe you ought to consider getting rid of the Mad King?" she suggested, only half-serious. "That might protect the land a bit better."

 

**Would you stop the war that is to come, ghost child?**

 

"If I can," she said before she could stop herself. _You sound like Sirius_. It was a stinging self-rebuke, for Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor with all the blood-traitors, but Narcissa had a plan. After all, if she needed to get to the Citadel, she couldn't well do so in the middle of a war. "If I stop the war, will you help me get home?"

 

For a moment, she heard only the sound of rustling leaves and the whisper of a breeze that whipped her hair around her. Then, without warning, one of the branches snapped hard across her half-bared arm, leaving a scratch that welled with blood. Narcissa cried out, "What was that for?"

 

**We have a bargain, sealed in blood. Avert this war, ghost child, and you will go home.**

 

***

 

Narcissa awakened the next morning to find Catelyn Tully seated by the window of her room. There were circles beneath her eyes and it was clear that she had been crying recently, though her face was grave.

 

"I've wanted to curse you," she said in a voice like broken glass, "for giving me this letter. I think I would have been happier if I hadn't known."

 

Narcissa bowed her head. "You wanted the truth."

 

"I was a fool." She pressed her lips together for a moment as though holding back a scream. "The king truly did murder them. I didn't want to believe it."

 

"What will you do now?" asked Narcissa softly.

 

Catelyn stared at her hands. "I don't know. Father summoned me this morning to say that I'm to marry Brandon's younger brother Eddard; that the alliance with Winterfell stands."

 

Narcissa crawled out of the bed and sat beside the red-haired girl on the window bench. "Is that what you want?"

 

"I don't think that matters, Narcissa."

 

"Does it matter to _you_?"

 

She shook her head. "I don't _know_. But I do mean it when I tell you it doesn't matter. Father will marry me to whomever he pleases and there's an end."

 

"Have you considered a love potion?" Narcissa asked, only half-joking.

 

"Are you serious?" Catelyn blinked. "Love potions aren't real."

 

"Then they aren't making them properly," said Narcissa. "If you want one for yourself and your husband-to-be, you need only ask. When does he arrive?"

 

"He's on his way from Winterfell as we speak, so several weeks at least." Catelyn bit her lip. "I suppose it would be ill luck to wear the dress I meant to wear when I married Brandon."

 

Narcissa placed her hands on Catelyn's shoulders. "It is a dress. What you make of it is entirely up to you, and the same holds true for Brandon Stark's brother."

 

She and her sisters had talked of weddings when they were girls, but nothing had turned out as planned. Bellatrix was engaged to Rodolphus Lestrange, but it had been Andromeda who married first, running off with that Mudblood. She would not think about that now. Her sisters had never been further away and she had more important concerns. _Other sisters, for instance_.

 

"There is something I need to ask you," she said, trying to recall more details from her dream. "Is it possible that Lyanna Stark was _not_ abducted against her will? That she ran away?"

 

Catelyn looked shocked. "Why would she do that?"

 

"It doesn't matter why, but if she _did_ , surely that changes things." _It changes everything_.

 

"I..." Catelyn looked down at her hands, "I suppose it must. But how would _you_ know that?"

 

Narcissa had to think for a moment. "What do you know about that white tree that grows in the godswood?"

 

"Heart trees?" Catelyn frowned. "They belong to the Old Gods. Most of them were cut down when the Andals came to these lands hundreds of years ago, but there are some lords who kept one or two." She must have seen something in Narcissa's face, for she continued after a moment, "Brandon told me there are whole forests of them north of the Neck."

 

"In his castle, you mean?" She couldn't recall the name, but it had something to do with winter.

 

"The Starks keep to the old faith, so I have to imagine there's a weirwood grove in Winterfell. Why do you ask?"

 

Narcissa took a breath. "I had a dream last night. Of a grove of heart trees and Lyanna Stark. I know it must seem mad since I've never set eyes on her, but I _knew_ it was her. She had a letter from a prince...what was that name again?"

 

"Rhaegar Targaryen?" Catelyn was watching her intently, her hands clenched in her lap. "Is that who you mean?"

 

"Yes, that was his name."

 

Catelyn swallowed. "Do you mean to tell me that my betrothed was strangled to death while watching his father being roasted alive because Lyanna Stark ran away with the Prince of Dragonstone?"

 

"I..." Narcissa had to look away from those eyes, though she reached out and covered Catelyn's hands with hers. "I think so. I'm so sorry."

 

The other girl's hands were freezing cold. "He couldn't have known. Brandon couldn't have known. He'd never have...I don't know _what_ he'd have done, but he'd not have gone to King's Landing..." Leaning forward, she rested her head against Narcissa's shoulder as her own shook with sobs. "How could she? How _could_ she?"

 

Narcissa slipped her arms around Catelyn. "It was the Mad King who killed your betrothed. Whatever the reason. Even if his sister decided to run away. How do you think _she_ must feel now?"

 

"I don't _care_. I would never have abandoned my duties."

 

"Nor would I," said Narcissa with a bitter laugh, "but I can tell you for certain that both of my sisters did." At that, Catelyn looked up at her, startled. "Oh, yes. My sister Andromeda ran away with..." _With a Mudblood_. "With the wrong person. And Bellatrix...Bella never cared for duty. I was the only one."

 

Her mother had wept for days after Aunt Walburga blasted Andromeda from the family tree in Grimmauld Place. The only person who seemed to care was Great-Aunt Cassiopeia who had squeezed Narcissa's hand on her way out and whispered, _They did it to my brother too. You're stronger than you think_.

 

It was those words that rang in her mind now. "You're stronger than you think, Catelyn Tully. I may not know much, but I know that. And," she added as Catelyn's sobs quieted, "you need to make a decision."

 

***

 

She was not the only one. As the Stark entourage drew nearer, Narcissa's dreams grew increasingly vivid. She saw a massive wall of ice beyond which swirled the coldest of winter winds, and if she peered closely enough, she thought she saw shadows passing through it, white and sharp with bright blue eyes.

 

**The Walkers, ghost child. They devour anything with warm blood and bring it back cold and dead.**

 

 _Inferi_ , thought Narcissa with a shudder, _the Walkers are creating Inferi_.

 

She saw a castle built of black stone, its walls warped and twisted in ways she'd never seen before. Beside it was a great tournament, the brightly coloured pennants and gowns contrasting sharply with the staring walls beyond. She saw the prince with silver hair-- _What did Catelyn call him? Rhaegar?_ \--present a crown of blue roses to the girl she now recognised as Lyanna Stark as the assembled crowd stared.

 

Catelyn was wrapped up in yet another round of wedding preparations, so Narcissa took the opportunity to spend more quality time with _The Art of Interdimensional Apparition_. The heart trees may have promised to help her, but Narcissa knew as well as any sensible witch that bargains with supernatural creatures were never all that they seemed.

 

Lysa burst into the godswood one day while Narcissa was attempting to make sense of M.B.'s explanation of what he called _magical distortion_. "Where's Cat?" She was already crying, her cheeks red and blotchy. "I need her!"

 

Narcissa set down the book and gestured for Lysa to sit beside her. "She's with the dressmaker. What's the matter?"

 

"I'm to be married." She sank onto the bench. "I'm to be married, and it's too, too awful. I can't bear it."

 

" _You_?" Narcissa blinked. "But you're too young, surely."

 

"I'm older than I look," said Lysa, looking down at the ground. "He's an old man. Father tells me I must marry him because I'm disgraced and--"

 

"Disgraced? How?" When Lysa didn't answer, Narcissa sighed. It was Andromeda all over again. "There's someone else, isn't there?"

 

Lysa looked at her in horror. "You mustn't tell anyone."

 

"I won't, I promise." What was one more secret in the grand scheme of things? "And if you tell me, I'll help you."

 

"How can you help me? You can't make Lord Arryn disappear so I don't have to marry him."

 

"No," said Narcissa, "but I can make you--and he--mind it less."

 

***

 

Of the two prospective bridegrooms, Lord Arryn arrived first. He looked as old as Narcissa's father and she had to swallow her revulsion at the thought of poor Lysa marrying him. _But I can at least make it tolerable_.

 

She had always been leery of love potions, even if she'd jested about them with Catelyn. Any witch knew the dangers of tampering with emotions, but this seemed like the sort of extenuating circumstance where Professor Slughorn would make one of his famous exceptions. _And I suppose it qualifies as practice for N.E.W.T.s_. Before she'd come here, she had been systematically memorising large chunks of _Moste Potente Potions_ , as well as the annotations in the family copy at Grimmauld Place that offered different combinations of herbs and flowers based on the kind of love being sought.

 

The potions took about two weeks to brew, as Narcissa needed to determine the cycle of the moon and follow it carefully. She and Lysa worked in the godswood, beneath the watchful eyes of the heart tree, while Catelyn distracted Lord Arryn with questions about her future husband. She had not yet told anyone about Lyanna, insisting that her brother surely ought to know first. Narcissa couldn't argue the point, though she watched the growing numbers of men-at-arms making camp outside Riverrun with trepidation. _Soon they may go to war simply because they have nothing better to do_.

 

Lord Eddard Stark arrived just as the sun was beginning to set. He reminded Narcissa of no one more than her cousin Regulus, the quiet unsmiling shadow of a brilliant elder brother. _At least Regulus still has his brother_ , she reminded herself, although Sirius' Sorting into Gryffindor sometimes made him seem as far away as Andromeda was now. But he greeted Catelyn graciously enough and Narcissa bit back her curiosity as the two disappeared into the godswood.

 

When they returned, Lord Stark's face was grey and pinched, but he raised Catelyn's hand to his lips dutifully before retreating to her father's study. Narcissa made her way to Catelyn's side. "You told him?"

 

Catelyn nodded.

 

"What did he say?"

 

"That it sounded like something Lyanna would do." Catelyn's voice was rough with tears. "He wasn't angry with her, not at all. But when I asked him what he was going to do, he didn't know. Lyanna was betrothed too, you know, and she abandoned her intended, and _he's_ the one who wants to go to war."

 

"Maybe she left him for a good reason," Narcissa suggested, taking Catelyn's arm. "And a broken engagement is certainly not reason enough for a war." Even the murder of Lord Stark's father and brother, however awful, couldn't convince Narcissa that the thousands of soldiers camped outside Riverrun needed to die.

 

And she couldn't help but remember her dream of creatures made of ice.

 

"It's not our decision," Catelyn told her softly. "All we can do is wait."

 

"Do you like him?"

 

Catelyn glanced at her in surprise. "He's nothing like his brother. You have to drag words out of him like fish from the river, but..." She smiled faintly. "He's kind and he's honourable and when I told him about his sister he didn't get angry or curse her or do any of the things one might have expected."

 

Narcissa smiled back. "You don't have very high opinion of men."

 

"I wasn't blind to Brandon's faults," said Catelyn. "I know Lysa thinks so, but she doesn't entirely understand."

 

Narcissa did not respond. Lysa had told her a great deal more than she'd told Catelyn as they worked together on the love potion in the heart tree's shadow, and Narcissa had sworn herself to secrecy. It was not an Unbreakable Vow, but she could feel the tree's red eyes upon her as she spoke and knew it was just as binding. She had also decided to let the potion steep in one of the heart tree's hollows, reasoning that that might make it stronger.

 

The day of the double wedding dawned bright and beautiful, but Narcissa found herself paying little attention to the ceremony. Lysa had hidden the small phial of love potion in one of her voluminous sleeves, planning to slip it into the chalice she and Lord Arryn would be sharing during the banquet. _You'll not care for your Petyr anymore once you've drunk it_ , Narcissa had warned Lysa the night before, _but you'll be able to make a different life for yourself_.

 

Her eyes met Lysa's now, and the younger girl gave her a trembling smile. Beside her, Lord Arryn looked massive and stern, speaking his vows in a rumbling voice. Narcissa tried to remind herself that this was not like other love potions, that Lysa deserved to be happy even in a marriage not of her own making.

 

At the banquet that followed, and after an exchange of glances with Lysa and Catelyn's father, Lord Stark rose to his feet. "My lords and ladies of the Riverlands, the Eyrie, and the North. I have news of grave import. It seems..." and here, he hesitated, looking at Catelyn, who nodded encouragingly at him, "...it would seem that my sister was not abducted, as we believed. My brother and my father did not know this when they went to King's Landing, and no doubt they would never have gone if they had known."

 

A murmur went through the room. Lord Stark paused, looking down at the table laden with sugar sculptures and half-filled wine glasses. "I came here intending to go to war, to avenge my family's spilled blood and take back my lost sister, but it is no longer that simple."

 

Narcissa found herself nodding. It was never that simple, no matter what men thought.

 

He had already started disbanding his army, he said, sending fully half of them back north. Lord Arryn would do the same with the forces from the Eyrie. They had both written to the king and to the Lady Lyanna's betrothed, a man named Robert who Narcissa had only heard about in fits and starts. If all went as planned, there would be no war.

 

 _And once all of it is over, I can go home_.

 

**Not yet, ghost child, not yet.**

 

She froze. The trees had not spoken to her outside of dreams for weeks now. _What do you mean, not yet?_

 

**There is one more piece left.**

 

It was a full week before she understood what that meant. Its name was Robert Baratheon.

 

He charged across the drawbridge into Riverrun on a lathered, exhausted horse that collapsed to the ground beneath his weight as he came to a halt, bellowing Lord Stark's name at the top of his prodigious lungs. Narcissa came to the window overlooking the courtyard just in time to hear the echoes of his rage from within the castle. Sighing, she leant against the window frame. "Very well. I concede the point," she muttered.

 

Lord Robert had apparently ridden hundreds of leagues on his own, upon receiving Lord Stark's letter of explanation, not for any sensible reason Narcissa could discern, but to insist that _his_ Lyanna would never have run away, that _his_ Lyanna had been abducted and was likely being raped at that very instant, and that if Lord Stark had any decency at all, he would do whatever it took to get her back, even if it meant starting a war with the Mad King who had, in case he'd forgotten, also murdered his father and brother. It was enough to make Narcissa's blood boil.

 

"I think I can entirely understand why the lady Lyanna chose to run away rather than marry _him_ ," she remarked to Catelyn in disgust.

 

"Ned told me he's not normally like that," said Catelyn, "but I confess I agree."

 

"Oh, it's _Ned_ , is it?" Narcissa couldn't help but tease, even as Catelyn's cheeks turned bright red. "Your answer should be that you're married and it's hardly my business what you call your husband behind closed doors."

 

Lysa looked up from the frame where she had been embroidering a moon-and-falcon border onto one of her cloaks. "Narcissa, if love potions work, what about the opposite?"

 

"You'd want Lord Robert to hate her?" Catelyn frowned. "I don't think that would help."

 

"Hate isn't the opposite of love," said Narcissa. "The opposite of love is indifference. It's the _absence_ of feeling. If we could make him _not care_ about Lyanna Stark..."

 

"Not likely," Catelyn sighed. "From what Ned says, he's been madly in love with her for years now, ever since they were first betrothed." She considered this for a moment. "Although he was in the Eyrie and she was in Winterfell, so he can't have known her any better than I knew Brandon."

 

At the name, Narcissa could see her mouth trembling. "Don't," she said, settling on the bench beside Catelyn. "He wouldn't begrudge you happiness."

 

"We can't make Lord Robert not care about the lady Lyanna," Lysa's voice piped up from her corner, "but could we make him forget her?"

 

Narcissa turned so quickly that she nearly slipped off the bench. "What did you say?"

 

Lysa blinked. "I just asked if we could make Robert forget Lyanna."

 

 _Water of Lethe, valerian, mistletoe berries, and rue_. It had been one of the potions Professor Slughorn them brew for O.W.L.s what seemed like a lifetime ago. _It was another lifetime, another world, and if I do not make Robert Baratheon forget Lyanna Stark, I will never go home_.

 

"I need you, Lysa," she said. "We've got a potion to brew."

 

***

 

As an O.W.L.-level potion, it took very little time to brew, although Narcissa had enlisted Catelyn's help in retrieving the closest thing she could find to water of Lethe from the stores belonging to Maester Perwyn. It came from the eastern continent, according to Catelyn, who had managed to decipher the label, from a river that had once run through the lost realm of Valyria. _Close enough_ , Narcissa told herself and, by extension, the heart tree.

 

It was decided that Narcissa would be the one to give Lord Robert the potion since he did not know her and she was not one of Lord Tully's daughters and therefore easily recognisable. It proved surprisingly challenging, however, since his goblet was rarely out of his hand. _A drunk and a boor_ , she concluded, _but that will make it easier to catch him off guard later in the night_.

 

As the final course was being served, Narcissa plucked a flagon of wine from one of the servants and made her way to where Robert Baratheon was seated between Lord Stark and Lord Arryn. The empty goblet, for once, was balanced on the edge of the table, and she snatched it up, first pouring in the grey, slightly smoky liquid, and then concealing it beneath a generous serving of red wine. She had only just turned back to the table when she felt a large hand on her backside and had to fight not to upend the glass into Lord Robert's face.

 

"I hadn't seen you before," he slurred.

 

"And _I_ was under the impression that the reason you were here was to save your ladylove," Narcissa retorted, all but slamming the goblet down on the table.

 

Before any of the men could respond, Catelyn had hooked her arm around Narcissa's and forcibly dragged her out of the room.

 

" _That_ ," she said between fits of giggles, "was not discreet at all."

 

"But did he drink it?"

 

Catelyn peered through the curtained doorway. "He's draining it now. I don't know what Lysa is telling them, but she nearly knocked over Lord Arryn's wine to do it."

 

"Then we've done what we can. If I've brewed it properly, he should wake up tomorrow having forgotten Lyanna Stark."

 

Catelyn glanced back at her, a frown between her brows. "You really _are_ a witch, aren't you? I'm not blind--something's happened to Lord Arryn too, and to Lysa."

 

"You may not have needed a love potion to find peace with your husband, but I promise you she did." Narcissa shrugged. "Just as Lord Stark can see his sister for what she is and therefore need not forget her, Lord Robert loves a mirage and forgetting that will be no great loss to him."

 

"It doesn't seem fair," mused Catelyn, "to decide what a person may or may not forget."

 

"All's fair in love and war, or so I've heard."

 

***

 

_Epilogue_

 

"Yes, but how did you get _back_?" Regulus' eyes were wide as saucers. "Was it the trees? It was the trees, wasn't it?"

 

"In part, yes," Narcissa allowed, laughing, "but I did make it to the Citadel eventually, once Lord Robert had made his own apology to the king and the prince. He even saw the lady Lyanna again when she was reunited with her brother, and it was as though he'd never even met her before. I don't think I've ever seen anyone look as relieved as Lyanna Stark that day."

 

"What happened at the Citadel?"

 

"Nothing of use. The man I needed to see--they called him a maester but he was clearly a wizard--had gone travelling, but one of his assistants let me into his rooms after a bit of persuasion. I found this." Reaching into the pocket of her robes, she pulled out a small statue of a Norwegian Ridgeback. "And when I opened my eyes again, I was in the Room of Requirement."

 

"And all of that happened before the holidays?" Regulus was eyeing her with distrust. "You said you were there for weeks."

 

"I lost the book, otherwise I would make you read Chapter 4 – 'The Non-Persistence of Time'." At Regulus' expression of horror, she grinned. "But I imagine the heart trees had something to do with how easy it was."

 

"It sounds like a great adventure."

 

"It was, I suppose," she said, as much to herself as to him. "And I don't suppose very many of us can say they've stopped a war." _Although Bella and Sirius certainly seem intent on starting one_. She did not say that aloud, but it would not have surprised her if Regulus were thinking the same thing.

 

He reached out and took her hand. "I'm glad you came back."

 

"Of course I came back! I wouldn't trade the Most Morbid and Lunatic House of Black for a world of mad kings." She hugged him briefly. "You're my family, no matter what."

 

"Even Andromeda?" he asked, his voice muffled in her shoulder.

 

Narcissa closed her eyes. "Yes. Even Andromeda. And Sirius. And Great-Uncle Marius the Squib. Just don't tell your mother."

 

"Promise."

 

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> It is true that this fic essentially boils down to Narcissa Black becoming Riverrun's resident drug dealer, but I like to think it ultimately works out? ;)
> 
> The only love potion specifically named in the Harry Potter series is _Amortentia_ (although Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes claim to sell minor love potions as well), which is implied to cause violent affection. I'm assuming that there are a huge variety of love potion recipes on offer and that Narcissa is brewing something more like the potion used in the medieval story of Tristan and Isolde that is specifically intended to bring two people together if they both drink it at the same time.
> 
> I do want to add the caveat that love potions are deeply problematic in the Harry Potter universe for legitimate reasons of dubious consent, but in the case of Lysa and Jon, I'm eliding that a little since neither of them is entering the marriage by choice. Narcissa is depriving Jon of consent at Lysa's request, which is not at all counter to what we know of Lysa as a character.
> 
> Speaking of Lysa, I took the liberty of expanding her knowledge of herbs (which is at least briefly implied in canon) such that it doesn't all come from Petyr Baelish.
> 
> The Forgetfulness Potion that Narcissa brews is specifically referenced in _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_ when Snape assigns it for first-year exams.
> 
> I had to make several decisions when trying to figure out how Narcissa's magic would function in Westeros, since it is a world whose magic has been severely tamped down for a wide variety of reasons. It made sense to me that she would be able to access a small subset of her powers, particularly those that do not require verbalized spells and/or wands.
> 
> M.B. is meant to be Archmaester Marwyn (Black). And this is how he ends up stuck forever in Westeros.


End file.
